


I Was Your First Taste (Would You Be My Last?)

by Nyxierose



Series: all that remains [2]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-14 00:11:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxierose/pseuds/Nyxierose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps they are inevitable, or perhaps she's just desperate. Either way, Lagertha will cling to whatever she can and hope against hope that she won't screw it up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Was Your First Taste (Would You Be My Last?)

Slowly but surely, she comes undone. She has been strong for too long, or at least that’s what _he_ says whenever the weight in her eyes becomes too much for either of them. At first she is resistant – she was never one to show her brokenness to anyone, even before, even in the aftermath of tragedy – but in time she learns to give in. If her fragility gives him purpose, she will let him take what he will from her.

For the first time in her life, she is valued for skills that ought not to be a woman’s role. She is a loose collection of shattered pieces, yes, but she is also the one who knows how to survive. And unsurprisingly, building and destroying prove pleasant ways to release her frustrations. No one has touched this patch of forest before, and though she works as quickly as she can, weeks pass before she can even _think_ about something resembling a home. She thanks the gods for her companion’s gentle and compliant nature – they have woken in the midst of rainstorms before, and yet he has never questioned her. Somehow she doubts he ever will.

She does not see him through those eyes, or at least that’s what she tells herself. He is simply _there_ , a convenient pair of arms to lose herself in, and she drags her heels at the thought of anything more than that. She has needs, yes, but for the most part she ignores them. There are more important things to be done, and the idea tastes of taking advantage of someone who could never reciprocate such fury.

Still, a woman can want and a woman can wonder and so help her, Lagertha does both.

The nightmares begin two weeks after their escape. The first is a blur of blood and carnage and, in the heart of it all, her sweet daughter turned into a monster. It is this last part that pushes her over the edge, causes her to writhe and cry out in a half-asleep state until she hears a voice calling her name and pulling her back.  “You,” she whispers as her eyes open and the terror begins to die down inside her. “You’re still here.”

“And why would I not be?” he counters, and it almost makes her laugh to see him try to defend himself.

“The gods took everything else from me. It is only a matter of time before they take you as well.” In truth, she’s not so sure she believes in anything at all anymore, but there is nothing else in sight to blame her problems on and she will take advantage of what she can. “Come. Lie with me tonight.”

In the darkness she swears she can see him blush, but he obliges well enough, curling up beside her and cautiously wrapping his arms ‘round her waist. They have taken such a position before, but never in sleep and never like this. It’s almost tempting to turn her head and place a quick kiss on his lips, but she dares not risk how he might react to that. She needs him most when he’s like this, passive and on the edge of acceptance and wrapped solidly around her finger. Eventually, she compromises for the tip of his nose instead – she is not an affectionate woman by nature, but there are few other ways to show her appreciation and the rest are all but forbidden.

If he were a different sort of man, any other man, she would fuck him in exchange for his kindness. But she knows he would not dare accept such an act, even if he wanted her. Perhaps _especially_ if he wanted her. The thought weighs heavy on her mind, but it will stay there for now, until such time as she finds the words to breach the subject and once more risk a loss she could not bear. She doesn’t know when that time will be, but she knows it isn’t now.

In the morning, he is still there, still nestled next to her and peaceful as always. She could love this man if given time. She could perhaps recreate herself, become strong again. And for the first time, she’s pretty sure that’s exactly what she wants.

As she leans to innocently kiss his cheek, his body shifts and it is suddenly something else entirely. She knows for a fact that no one has ever dared do this to him before, and she is equally sure that this is not how she wishes to take his innocence. Yet she lingers, keeping contact until she sees the shock in his eyes. “Took us long enough,” she mutters, motionless as she watches him back away from her as if terrified. “Don’t pretend the thought has yet to cross your mind.”

She once thought she’d seen every shade a human being could turn, but he goes from violent red to snow white in a matter of seconds and she’s not quite sure what to think. It figures that he would be speechless at a time like this. For the most part, that’s a side of him she likes – she loathes small talk, and being around someone who only uses words to communicate in desperate circumstances is a pleasant change of place. But at a time like this, it’s damn well infuriating and she’s not in the mood. “What?” she growls. “Am I that far gone? That undesirable? Because I can assure you…”

Her focus must be off, because in the time she’s given in to her frustration, he’s returned to her and found the courage – and it _is_ courage, she won’t let herself think otherwise – to put two fingers to her lips. “You are no such thing,” and his voice is shaking but she knows he can’t lie for the life of him and so she believes. “You are like nothing else. And you are good.”

And what is one to say to that? It would be too easy to point out how wrong he is about her, but she knows there is nothing in this world that could sway him on that point, not even now. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“And you did no such thing. I merely fear that it might be wrong if…”

“You worry too much,” she laughs. “Now, will you let me kiss you properly, or will you run from that as well?”

To her surprise, he closes in, making a move she doubted he was capable of. He is so cautious and careful, his kiss the lightest of touches, but she stays there and lets him do what he can. “Was that alright?” he asks when he backs away, and again there is irrationally endearing fear in his haunting eyes.

“It was different,” she replies, shrugging her shoulders. She has been kissed by a fair number of men, but all the others were forceful, claiming her as theirs. _He_ , on the other hand, is delicate and gentle and perhaps everything she once longed for. Still longs for, even. “A good kind of different. As is everything you are.”

And though it is strange and like nothing she has ever known before, she’s pretty sure she likes this better.


End file.
